


Sweet After All These Years

by Chash



Series: And So It Goes [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 09:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10186091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Like most things, holidays were rough in the eight years they were apart. Now that they're back together, they're looking a lot better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As is my tradition, I'm posting something self-indulgent for my 300th fic in this fandom. In this case, it's tooth-rotting fluff. I know what I'm about.

**One - Halloween**

"So, is Halloween the only party you like?" Clarke asks, curious. 

Bellamy is squinting at his laptop, trying to get the fold on his toga right. Which means he's standing shirtless with just a sheet tied around his waist as he drapes and redrapes. Halloween might be her favorite holiday now too.

"What?" he asks, absent.

"You're actually excited to go to a party. I don't think I've ever seen that before. It's like I don't even know you."

He flashes her a grin. "Don't worry, I still hate parties. I just like dressing up."

"You say that, but you're having trouble getting your toga on, so I don't really believe that this is a regular thing for you."

"I'm trying a new style," he grumbles. "Besides, I can't just wear the same thing every year. That's boring. I'm not even wearing this on Halloween, just for the party."

"You have a separate outfit for Halloween?" she asks, surprised. "How did I not know this about you?"

" _What are your Halloween traditions_ isn't really a common topic of conversation," he points out. He gets the toga done to his satisfaction and comes down to drop a kiss against her lips. "And I haven't actually done the real Halloween thing in a while. We'd do parties when I was in the navy, but half the time I was on duty and I just didn't care that much. But I always liked giving out candy, so I'm doing that on Tuesday."

"But not in the toga."

He hands her his golden laurel and sits next to her on the bed so she can bobby-pin it in his hair. "I like doing something the kids will get excited about, so I'm going to put together a James Potter costume tomorrow."

"Is there a reason you weren't telling me this?" she asks, curious. She's not particularly hurt, it's clearly not something he was trying to hide from her, but he hadn't mentioned it either, and she's surprised it didn't come up.

"You make it sound so sinister," he says, leaning into her touch when she plays with his curls. "I just hadn't mentioned it yet. Come on, I've been drowning in work. The only reason my costume tonight is just a toga and a laurel is that I didn't realize how soon the party was. I was really planning to do something cooler."

"No one told you being a teacher was actually a huge pain in the ass, huh?" she teases.

"I thought it was just telling kids to get off my lawn and ranting about historical figures." He gives her another kiss. "You can come on Tuesday if you want, but I don't care if you don't. Everyone else was just going to turn off the lights and pretend we weren't home."

Clarke has to smile. She'll admit, she can't picture any of his housemates giving out candy. Echo would absolutely be the scariest thing any of the kids saw on Halloween. "I don't have a Harry Potter costume ready."

"We'll just get you some robes and a Slytherin scarf. Trust me, it's the laziest costume ever."

"Slytherin?" she asks. 

"Sorry. If you're worried the kids will judge you, you can pretend you're a Ravenclaw. Or get a red wig and be Lily."

"I'm just trying to decide if you sorted me into Slytherin before or after we broke up."

"Before. Sorry, all the rich kids are Slytherins. I don't make the rules." He kisses her temple. "It's in a good way."

"Uh huh. I'm in the evil house in the good way," she says, but she's smiling. It's nice, having someone who knows her so well. 

"My favorite ruthless, ambitious asshole."

That makes her laugh. "You actually know a lot of those, don't you?"

"I've got a type." He stands to check himself in the mirror. Clarke's own outfit is pretty basic too, but in a good way; she got a green dress and pink hat to be Louise from _Bob's Burgers_ , another awesome Slytherin. Monty's Tina and Jasper is Gene, and she has to say they're going to look awesome, as a group. She's pretty excited for the party, and even more excited that Bellamy's actually into it.

Which maybe he realizes, because he nudges his nose against her neck, affectionate. "You know I'm still going to get bored in a couple hours and want to leave, right?"

"And by leave you mean come up here and lock the door?"

"Yeah."

"I know." She presses a kiss to his hair, careful to not dislodge his crown. "It's honestly perfect for me. I'd be getting bored by a couple hours into the party, but by then you want to leave. I get to go with you because I'm your girlfriend, but you're the grump, so I don't even have to look bad. Ever since we started dating, my friends all think I'm happier and more sociable, but really you're just unsociable for me."

He smiles. "What about happier?" 

"Don't fish for compliments."

"Why not? I love compliments. You should give me compliments all the time."

"I've never been happier," she says. "Also you're hot and awesome and I like how your costume shows off your arms and chest. You're a good teacher and a great boyfriend and I love you."

"Cool, thanks. I wish your costume had more cleavage."

"Sorry I'm not wearing a sexy Louise Belcher costume for you."

He shudders. "Jesus, never mind. Rescinded. Never say those words again." The doorbell rings downstairs, and he exhales. "Okay, sounds like we're starting. Party time?"

"Party time," she agrees, and tugs him up for a long kiss before they head downstairs.

It's a good party, as she knew it would be. Bellamy really _does_ like Halloween, and he's adorable, drunk and loose and happy. They actually stay downstairs until the end of the party for once, and he nuzzles her neck, tells her he's sorry for not being the grumpy asshole he's supposed to be.

"I'll forgive you," she tells him, petting his messy hair. Despite her best efforts with the bobby pins, he lost his laurel crown at some point. They'll probably find it tomorrow, once everyone has cleared out. "Come on, let's get to bed."

And as fun as that is, it's nothing compared to Halloween itself. It hadn't occurred to her, but of course he loves giving out candy, crouching down to ask kids about their costumes, congratulating them on how cool and/or scary they look. 

If anyone had asked, she wouldn't have said she was into guys who were good with kids. She likes kids fine, sort of assumed with some vague part of her brain that she'd have some, but--part of never being serious with anyone but Bellamy meant that parenthood was one of those vague ideas for her. She'd get married and have kids, if only--

She leans her cheek on his shoulder after three kids all dressed as Spider-Man take off. "You're going to be a great dad," she tells him.

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"I'd make sure there was more variety in the Spider-Man costumes," he says. "If they were my kids. You could do a lot of cool variants. Those were just store-bought."

"I'm glad our future children will be unique Spider-Men."

She can feel him swallow, and he covers her hand with his. "Nothing but the best for our future children."

"That's the plan, yeah."

 

**Two - Thanksgiving**

"Are you dying?" Miller asks.

Bellamy shoots him a quick glare. "Why would I be dying?"

"I don't know. You're stressing out so much about this Thanksgiving thing I figured it was your last meal or something. Are you going to jail? Did you rob a bank to afford this many cranberries?"

"Shut up," he grumbles. "It's a big deal."

"You think Clarke's going to dump you if you don't cook something good enough for Thanksgiving with her dad? I'm pretty sure she doesn't give a shit if her dad doesn't approve of you."

It's mostly, but not entirely, accurate. Bellamy's pretty sure she doesn't care _now_. He doesn't think Thanksgiving with her dad is something that's going to cause any issues with their relationship. For one thing, he's interacted her dad several times since they started dating again, and he seems to like Bellamy fine, and, for another and far more important thing, _Clarke_ loves him. Given how long he spent feeling insecure about how Clarke felt about him, it's still a little odd, being so sure of it. It feels like hubris, like some sort of cockiness that will bite him in the ass, but it's nothing like that, not really.

He was never this sure before they broke up. It's not cockiness when you can back it up with, if not _evidence_ , then at least some sort of justification. He knows what they are to each other. He doesn't have to worry.

"It's her birthday on the 24th," he tells Miller. He's pretty sure that's a large part of his anxiety. "So we're doing joint Thanksgiving and birthday. I just want it to be nice."

There's a pause, and then Miller asks, "Are you proposing?"

Bellamy chokes on thin air. "Jesus fuck, what?"

"I just don't get why you're so nervous. Is she pregnant?"

"Not that she's mentioned." He rubs his face. "Look, we've never done this, okay? This is our first family holiday together. I don't think she's going to dump me if it doesn't go well, I just want it to go well anyway." He casts a sidelong glance at Miller. "You're not worried about Monty meeting your parents?"

Miller shrugs. "Not really. They love me, they know I love Monty. Everyone's basically on the same page."

Bellamy sighs. "Yeah. I don't know. Neither of them cooks, so Thanksgiving usually isn't a big deal. So I said I'd do it, and I want it to be--good."

"Which is why it's fucking _Tuesday night_ and you're already cooking?"

"I'm getting as much ready as I can in my kitchen," he says. "I don't know how her dad's is. I'm doing the turkey there, but--"

"Forget I asked. I really don't want all the details of your Thanksgiving feast plans."

"I know you're just bitter that I'm a better cook than your mom."

"I'm bitter that now that you and Clarke are dating so you're never coming back to Maine."

"I think we're going to her mom's wedding," he says. "Whenever that is. But yeah, I think I'm basically safe on most holidays."

"If by _safe_ , you mean _cooking for Clarke for the rest of your life_."

"That's basically what I mean, yeah," he says, and it does make him feel a lot better.

Miller rolls his eyes. "Oh good, now you're happy again. I should have just left you alone."

"I was happy before," he says. "I can be stressed and happy. I've got skills."

"Sure," says Miller. "Whatever you have to tell yourself."

Clarke is about as dubious when she comes over the next day, if not more so.

"Are you making _everything_ today?" she asks.

"Not everything. Just the sides. Except for the potatoes, I like fresh potatoes, so I'll do those there. But we've got Miller's car, so we can just put everything in the back and warm it up when we get there. Then I can focus on the turkey and the potatoes."

Clarke wraps her arms around him and kisses his shoulder. "You know this isn't a big deal, right? Like--I don't _mind_ , but I wasn't expecting you to do all this when you volunteered to cook."

"I want to do all this. It's Thanksgiving. I like cooking. We're going to have leftovers for a week, which is the point of Thanksgiving, right?" He smiles. "Sorry, are you going to be bored if I'm cooking all day? I warned you."

"I don't know why, but I thought you were exaggerating. You can at least let me help, right? I'm not going to be bored if I'm just hanging out while you cook, but I'll feel guilty."

"It's your birthday," he says. "You don't have to help with your birthday."

"It's also Thanksgiving. I'm going to want to help next year too, so I might as well start learning now, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you might as well. But you're not allowed to help with the cake."

She perks up. "There's cake?"

"It's your _birthday_. Of course there's cake. And pie. This is gonna feed us for the next week or so, easy."

Her laugh is soft. "Seriously, you don't have to do all this."

"Thanksgiving is my time to cook way too much food." He worries his lip. "Honestly, I haven't done this in like five years. I'm pretty pumped to just get to cook all my favorite stuff. And maybe a little nervous you guys won't like it."

"I'm not worried."

He has to smile. "I'm going to tell you to prep Brussels sprouts."

She can't hide her brief look of disgust. "Brussels sprouts?" 

He laughs. "I promise you'll like them how I make them. Bacon is involved."

"I trust you," she says, and rolls up her sleeves, gives him a nod that's all determination. He has to lean down and kiss her; he can't not. She beams at him. "Okay, what am I doing?"

Between the two of them, they get his entire to-do list knocked out without much trouble, with a little time to spare, even. Which means they have time to watch a movie before bed, instead of just having sex.

In the morning, they pack all the food into Miller's car, and Clarke takes a picture of it and posts it to her snapchat wall--or whatever public thing you have on snapchat, Bellamy doesn't know--captioned: _You wish your significant other was this good a cook_. Which makes his whole Thanksgiving. Everything after this is gravy.

No pun intended.

Jake Griffin does like Bellamy. He's very sure of that. He even believes that Jake Griffin always liked him. He's gotten over the years of resenting and overthinking Clarke's _Dad was right_ during their breakup, which never even meant what he thought it did, and now he can accept that his girlfriend's dad was not prejudiced against him as a romantic partner. He just recognized that the first time the two of them went out, it wasn't going to work. And he seems as happy as everyone else is that the second time is going better.

Still, Bellamy can't help being just a little paranoid about the guy. He's pretty sure he'll get over it sooner or later.

Jake greets them at the door with a smile and an exaggerated double-take when he sees the tupperware they're carrying.

"Wow, when you said you'd bring everything but the bird, you really meant it."

"This is just the first wave," Clarke says, bright. "We're going to need your help to get the rest of it."

"I was thinking the turkey looked awfully large. Are we having more guests I didn't know about?"

"I like leftovers," Bellamy says. "And it's not like the whole turkey is meat. There's a lot of bone and stuff in there."

"Which he's going to use to make soup stock," says Clarke. "He's a really great cook."

"Clearly." Jake's smile is warm and, from what Bellamy can tell, completely genuine. "Well, bring this into the kitchen, and we can go and get the rest of it."

It really is a lot of food, but Bellamy's housemates are basically like a swarm of locusts, so if he so much as hints that he needs helping eating the leftovers, they will be gone before he can blink. Especially if there are any left once Jasper moves in.

"So," says Jake, clapping his hands once they have everything unloaded. "How can I help?"

Clarke gets the parade on, and Bellamy lets Jake help him with the cake. Once it's done, he handles the turkey by himself, because everyone else is afraid of screwing it up, and then they actually have a while to relax and chat while everything is cooking. Jake asks all the right questions about how school is going and how he's liking being a teacher, and it's really not that bad. Clarke finds a puzzle for them to work on, which gives everyone something to focus on while they talk, and he leans over to kiss her while her dad is in the bathroom.

"Good?" she asks.

"Yeah."

Honestly, it feels like how Thanksgiving is supposed to be. Maybe he can convince O and Lincoln to join them next year. Then it would be perfect.

Dinner is amazing, if he does say so himself, and Clarke and Jake say it too, so he doesn't even have to feel like he's just being egotistical. They eat enough that by eight, they're still not even thinking about dessert, and Jake clears his throat.

"Are you working tomorrow, Clarke?"

"No. The museum is open, but I'm taking a vacation day."

Jake nods. "Well, I made up the guest room just in case. We could watch a movie and hold out for midnight to celebrate Clarke's birthday."

"Or breakfast tomorrow," Clarke says, smiling. "I might be ready to eat again by then." She cocks her head at Bellamy, and he smiles.

"That sounds great, yeah."

They do make it to midnight, barely. Jake doesn't have a lot of birthday candles, but Bellamy finds two white and seven in rainbow colors and arranges them in vague groups, which he figures is close enough. 

"I haven't blown out candles on a cake since college," she says, smiling.

"No wonder your life sucked," says Bellamy. "You missed out on a ton of wishes."

"That must be it." She blows them out on the first try, and Jake cuts them all pieces. It's the Blake family birthday cake, the same one he made her eight years ago, and she smiles after the first bite. "Still the best cake ever."

"I was hoping so, yeah."

Bellamy never feels very confident about gift-giving, and with Clarke it's definitely worse, since her birthday is just a month before Christmas. He doesn't even have time to recover. But he commissioned a Tumblr fan artist he knows she likes to do a _Nevertheless, she persisted_ Princess Leia print for her birthday, and she's completely delighted with it, like he thought she would be. Her dad gets her paints, and he feels a little bad, that there are so few gifts, just the three of them celebrating, but they're doing drinks with their friends when everyone gets back, so she'll probably end up with more.

And she's happy. The rest is gravy.

"Birthdays are when we get to be sappy, right?" she asks, once they're curled up in the guest bed.

"I think we really need to stop pretending we're not sappy all the time, at some point. Just own it."

She pokes him. "Extra sappy."

"That's a birthday tradition, yeah. Go for it."

"This is the first time in seven years I didn't know what to wish for."

A lump rises in his throat, and he tugs her closer, noses her hair. "A pony. If you can't think of anything else."

She laughs and presses her lips against his shoulder. "Next year for sure."

"Yeah, we could use a pony." He lets out a breath, closes his eyes. "Happy birthday, Clarke."

"Thanks. It was perfect."

 

**Three - Christmas**

Bellamy has this problem.

It's the best kind of problem to have, in a way. He's in a serious relationship with the only person he's ever loved, he's moving in with her, and he is completely and somewhat terrifyingly happy.

And he wants to ask her to marry him.

It's one of those things he doesn't quite know how to think about, mostly because it was always so easy to think about before. His secret, the one he's never told Clarke, the one he never even told _Miller_ , was that he'd wanted to propose to her the first time. He'd been that sure about how he felt.

The ring was his grandmother's, and then his mother's. He found it when he was cleaning out her room after she died, and his first impulse had been to sell it. That was his impulse with almost all her stuff, even the stuff that wasn't worth anything, and the ring was one of the more valuable things she owned. He ended up getting it appraised at a pawn shop, and they offered him a decent price, but not quite _enough_. It was a nice ring, and he'd always liked it, so he told himself O might want it, someday. He always _could_ sell it, if they really needed money. It was his backup plan.

And then he met Clarke, and he thought, well--at least he didn't have to buy her a ring.

Even then, he knew it was a stupid thought, a reckless one. That knowledge was what kept him from proposing any of the times he thought about it then; at first, it was just that it was too soon, and then it was that some part of him realized he would have been asking her for all the wrong reasons. He would have been staking a claim, and he was right not to do it, because it would have just made it worse, when everything fell apart.

But the impulse itself never faded, not all the way. He'd found the ring when he was unpacking in his room in Virginia, and even before he knew he'd be seeing Clarke again in just a few weeks, he had the same lurch as always, the same thought: _there's Clarke's ring_.

He'd nearly sold it right then, just so he wouldn't have to see it. But he never managed it. And now--

Well, now, it's been almost a year since he got Clarke back in his life, and he's more sure than ever that she's it for him, and that she feels the same way about him. 

So he's got a ring, and he keeps wanting to give it to her, and he was already fretting about it as a Christmas gesture when Lincoln says, "This isn't permission, but I'm letting you know that I'm hoping the next time I see you, I'll be engaged to your sister."

It's December 22, and they're out for drinks before everyone scatters for their respective holiday plans. O and Lincoln are taking off for California in the morning, and Bellamy has examined himself and his emotional state critically and decided that he's fine with it. The problem he has is feeling like he _should_ have some sort of stable Christmas tradition to offer her, and he doesn't. Part of him still feels like a failure for not having a place for his sister to come home to for the holidays.

But if he did, she'd probably want to go home with Lincoln anyway. So it's fine, that they're both just spending the holidays with their respective significant others. His sister is happy, and she doesn't care that he isn't just hanging around Maine, living for her coming to visit him. She'd be pissed, if he was doing that.

So he's good, honestly, and he doesn't have any trouble smiling at Lincoln and raising his beer. "Cool. I'm always hoping the next time I see you you're going to be engaged to my sister." He pauses. "Christmas proposal, or New Year's?"

"Christmas, I think. I know it's a cliche, but I'm hoping Octavia will let it slide just this one. This is the only time of year I see my family, so--this way we'll be able to celebrate with them. And then celebrate with you and Clarke when we get back."

It still makes him smile when people treat him and Clarke like a unit, so it's easy to say, "That sounds good. Congratulations."

"She hasn't said yes yet."

"Yeah, I'm not worried."

Lincoln smiles a small, private small. "No. I'm not either."

It wasn't as if Bellamy was really planning to propose on Christmas. If he had a clear plan about proposing, he probably would have already done it. And he'd feel bad just doing that for Clarke for Christmas, instead of getting her a real present. They agreed that since they're moving in together, they'd just buy each other apartment stuff, which makes his life a lot easier. Plus, it's a broad enough criterion that he doesn't mind getting her a DVR, because she always complains she doesn't have one, and it's clearly apartment-related.

But he could have proposed on top of that. He still could. 

"Lincoln's proposing to O," he tells her on their way back to his place. Raven is in Maryland until the 26th, but there's nothing stopping Bellamy from moving into Clarke's room before she's actually moved out; he was just waiting until his break started so that he wouldn't be worrying about his grading and lessons. So Clarke is going to help him pack up tomorrow, and they'll move him in on Christmas Eve, and be able to celebrate their first Christmas together in their own apartment.

It's definitely shaping up to be a great holiday.

"Yeah?" Clarke asks, snuggling in closer against his side. "When?"

"Christmas."

"Kind of a cliche."

"Yeah, he owned that." He looks straight ahead, not letting himself be nervous. "So, I shouldn't propose on any major holidays."

"President's Day would be fine," she says. "Memorial Day. Halloween." Then she laughs. "Honestly, you can propose any time you want. But if you do it on Christmas, I'm going to make fun of you."

"Good to know. Is it weird that I'm already planning to do that?"

"Propose?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe. But I'm already planning to say yes, if it makes you feel better."

"It does." He clears his throat. "I wanted to propose before you went to college, but I realized I would have been doing it for the wrong reasons. So now I feel like my judgement's impaired."

"What reasons?"

"Staking a claim, I guess. Making sure everyone knew you were mine when you were at school."

"So, you didn't want to marry me," she says, voice teasing, and he laughs.

"Well, that too."

She's quiet for a minute, and when she speaks again, her voice has turned thoughtful. "This really isn't something you should be stressing about. I guess I get why you are, but--it doesn't really matter. You can ask whenever you want, and I'll say yes whenever you do. And you'd be asking because you love me. I know that."

"But you'll make fun of me if I do it on Christmas," he says, and she laughs.

"Just a little."

"As long as it's just a little." He pauses again. "You think it's ever gonna feel like we've got the pacing right?"

She doesn't hesitate. "Yeah. It feels weird to be this serious this soon, but--being this serious is going to be normal at some point, right?"

"I guess so."

"So, yeah. Feel free to propose whenever you want. But if you take too long, I'm doing it."

"Cool, sounds good."

They pack his stuff on Saturday and move on Sunday, and it's just easy. He hides the ring in one of his socks when Clarke's not paying attention and figures it'll be there whenever he needs it. And even if she does find it, it's not a big deal. It's not like she doesn't know he's planning to marry her.

Their pacing may be weird, but at least they're on the same page. 

They do Christmas Eve with Clarke's dad, which is stressful only because Bellamy bought him a present for the first time, and he doesn't want to have screwed it up, but as sources of anxiety go, it's pretty minor. He got Jake a book he thought Jake would like, and Jake got them a food processor for the apartment, which Bellamy is maybe unreasonably excited about. He's never had a food processor before. He's going to pulverize so many things.

Christmas morning is laid back and easy. They sleep in and have sex, and Clarke doesn't object to getting a DVR because she got him a Nintendo Switch, and they're in agreement that they'll both enjoy both items, so they definitely count as apartment gifts.

Octavia calls around one to tell him she's engaged.

"Congrats," he says. "Did Lincoln put the ring under the tree?"

"He proposed last night, but it was the middle of the night there, so I figured I'd just tell you in the morning."

"I guess Christmas Eve proposal is less cliched than Christmas. Maybe. I don't know. Was there artificial snow? Real snow? I don't really know how California works. You could be in basically any climate, from what I can tell."

She laughs, so she really _must_ be happy. "You know you can just be happy for me, right? It's not like you're actually fooling me with the fake judging."

"I'm really happy for you. Congratulations to you both. From Clarke too."

"Thanks. Merry Christmas, by the way."

"That too, yeah. I hope Lincoln got you something other than love. Material goods are where it's at."

"What did Clarke get you?"

"Video games, obviously."

"True love, huh?"

Clarke is attempting to get the DVR hooked up while he makes lunch, biting her lip as she squints at the instructions. She's wearing a shirt she stole from him within a week of getting back together and her pajama pants, and sometimes he still doesn't know how to look at her for how happy he is to have her back in his life.

But in a good way, now.

"I'm not sure that's a thing," he tells his sister. "But it's going pretty well, yeah."

Octavia snorts. "You're not fooling anyone, Bell."

"I'm not trying to. I really don't think that's a thing. But--whatever we both found is pretty great. So I'm happy for us. Merry Christmas, O. Send me a picture of your ring."

"Will do," she says. "Love you."

"Love you too."

He flips the grilled cheese and then goes into the living room, sits down next to Clarke on the living room floor and presses a kiss to her shoulder. "O got engaged."

"Awesome."

"I'm not proposing today."

"Cool. Keep me posted."

He laughs. "Yeah, trust me. You're gonna be the first to know."

 

**Four - New Year's**

"We don't have to go," says Clarke, although she's not sure _why_ , at this point. She said it when she told him about the invitation, and she's said it on several occasions since then, when the party came up in conversation, and every time Bellamy has said it's fine.

So it's not surprising that his mouth quirks up and he says, "Yeah, I got that from the fifty other times you told me. Trust me, I don't mind."

"You don't think it's tempting fate?" she asks.

He leans down for a kiss. "I like to think of it as redemption. Or maybe revenge. Some sort of closure, anyway. I can't wait to go to Lexa's party and not feel like I've got spinach in my teeth the whole time."

She laughs. "Okay, I get it now. This is like a high-school reunion for you. You want to go and show off how you're hot and successful and happy."

"Basically." He pauses, definitely for dramatic effect. "But I was hot before too, right?"

"And successful, yeah. This is probably more of a confidence thing."

"But you're still worried," he says, wrapping his arms around her and propping his chin on her shoulder as she checks herself in the mirror.

Clarke sags back against him. "Not _worried_. It's not like I think anything bad is going to happen. I just--I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Or like you don't belong. Or--anything."

He kisses her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. So you're going to feel better too. We're gonna go to this, Lexa and I will show our affection for each other with passive-aggressive sniping, she'll be vaguely bitter that Costia actually likes me, we'll drink free booze, and then we'll leave like fifteen minutes after midnight. If anyone tries to be a dick about how I'm poor, I'll just pull the _I was in the navy fighting to defend your freedom_ card. It's going to be great."

"You really have this figured out."

"I'm not saying I had _Count of Monte Cristo_ fantasies about showing up at a party with your rich friends and no one knew who I was and I charmed them and then revealed my secret identity, but I'm also not saying I haven't had those fantasies."

"Now I wish she didn't know we were coming. It would be so great to surprise her." She exhales. "Okay, I'm convinced. You really want to go to this party."

"I really do. Do you?"

"A lot more than I did, yeah. But I'm still going to fight people if they're dicks. Does that work with your revenge fantasies?"

"Of course it does."

"Then yeah, I'm good. It's gonna be fun."

Bellamy pecks her cheek and grins. "Yeah, I'm saying."

Clarke hasn't been to one of Lexa's New Year's parties since her sophomore year of college, when she went only to prove that she could, that breaking up with Bellamy hadn't ruined the holiday for her. Which was a complete lie, as she knew, so she came up with excuses to skip for a while after that, until Lexa stopped asking. 

But it must have been pretty obvious what had happened, because Lexa's invitation this year had been, "Now that you're back together with your boyfriend, I assume you don't hate the New Year anymore."

And Clarke had been all ready to give her another excuse, but she thought she should at least _ask_ , and, well, apparently Bellamy has revenge fantasies about this. There's no way she's going to deprive him.

Lexa and Costia live in a large condo because of course they do. They're large condo people. They'd offered Clarke the spare room when Lexa found out how terrible her living arrangements were, but Clarke had trouble imagining anything more awkward than living with her much more financially stable ex-girlfriend and her current girlfriend, so she'd opted to stay in her shitty, heatless studio apartment and never regretted it for a second.

Costia's the one who opens the door for them, radiant and glowing in a silver gown. She hugs them both, and Clarke has to smother her own smile. She had no idea how Costia would take to Bellamy, in part because she never warmed to Clarke much. But Bellamy is the missing piece that explained Clarke and Lexa for Costia, the reason that they'd never worked out when they looked so perfect on paper, so Costia not only adores him, but likes Clarke a lot better now that she and Bellamy reunited.

Bellamy loves it, because he and Lexa continue to be the most awkward kind of friendly, and his warm relationship with her girlfriend clearly irks her to no end.

Clarke's pretty sure they like each other too, somewhere deep down; she just hasn't figured out exactly where yet.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Costia gushes. She's clearly already pretty drunk.

"Oh yeah," says Bellamy, his smile warm and genuine. "Wouldn't miss it."

The party itself is both better and worse than Clarke expected. The side effect of losing both money and contact with her mother is that this isn't really Clarke's scene anymore either, and her explanations of who she is and what she's doing right now get almost as many condescending smiles as Bellamy's do. But they know how to be a united front in a way they didn't back in college, and it turns out Bellamy was right: it really is fun to watch people shut down when he drops casual references to his naval service or she talks about how much happier she is freed from her mother's expectations.

Plus, Roan and Echo are there, involved in their own weird, passive-aggressive family struggle with Lexa, and while Clarke wouldn't list either of them among her favorite people, they're great to hang out with at a party like this. There's nothing like mutual spite to get Clarke close to someone.

It's not the kind of thing she wants to do every year, but she probably doesn't have to do it _every_ year. Just sometimes. She does have other friends who are likely to throw parties too. Or she and Bellamy could do their own. Anything feels possible.

They get tipsy on fancy booze and dance a little, and even forget about fighting the other guests and just enjoy themselves. And when midnight comes, Bellamy tugs her in for a warm kiss.

"I should have done that last year," he murmurs.

"It would have saved us some trouble, yeah." She gives him another quick peck. "So, stay like ten more minutes?"

"Sounds about right, yeah. Fifteen, if you want to be really polite."

"Not really."

He grins. "Then yeah, ten minutes and we take off."

Lexa doesn't look surprised when they say they're leaving, just looks between them with her usual cool expression. "So, I assume your vendetta against New Year's really is gone?"

Clarke glances back at Bellamy. "Yeah, I think that's a safe bet." She hugs both their hostesses, and Bellamy does too. "Great party. Thanks so much for the invitation."

"Way better than the last one," Bellamy adds, and Lexa actually smiles.

"Yes, I thought so too."

They take the train home, and as soon as they're inside, he tugs her in for a much longer, hotter kiss.

"I love you," he murmurs against her mouth. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah." She tangles her fingers in his hair. "Have fun?"

"I love when you yell at rich people. And you look fucking amazing in that dress. I nearly asked if you wanted to hook up in the bathroom."

"We could have told her you were checking the plumbing," she teases, and Bellamy actually scoops her up to take her to the bedroom.

"I _really_ love you," he says, once he's deposited her on the bed, and she grins.

"Yeah. I really love you too."

In the morning, she feels him getting out of bed at what her body tells her is _way too early to be getting out of bed_ , so she assumes he's just going to the bathroom and rolls back into the warm space he left, drifting in and out of sleep while she waits for him to come back to bed.

She nods all the way off at some point, and when she wakes up and he's still not back, she tugs on a shirt and goes looking for him.

He's sitting on the couch wearing just his pajama pants and glasses, leaning over his laptop with a look of intense concentration that makes her smile.

"Bellamy," she says, and he startles. "It's eight-thirty in the morning on New Year's Day. Please don't tell me you're doing lesson plans."

He flashes her a grin. "I'm definitely not. Go back to sleep, I'll be in in a minute."

"You better not be putting your affairs in order because you're going to go duel Lexa," she says. "I remember this _Hamilton_ song."

That makes him smile. "It's way past dawn, don't worry. No affairs of honor. Seriously, I'll be back in a sec. I'm almost done."

"If you go to duel anyone I'm going to be so pissed," she says, but does return to their room and flop back into bed. He probably just decided to check his email and had a parent complaint he can't resist responding to, and once he's done with that, they can have sex. Clarke would be down for that. It's worth being up at eight-thirty on a day off if she's going to get laid.

But when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later, he says, "Here I brought you coffee."

"Coffee?" she asks, sitting up and blinking at him.

"Do't act like you suddenly don't like coffee," he teases. 

"Do I need to be awake for something?"

"Kind of," he admits, and when she accepts the mug, he drops down to one knee.

It's a good thing she took the mug with both hands, or she might have dropped it. When he said he wasn't proposing at Christmas, she'd sort of assumed he meant he wasn't going to be doing it for a while. Not that he was just putting it off for a week. "Bellamy--" she starts, but she doesn't actually know what to say. Her mouth is suddenly dry.

"Come on, you knew this was coming," he says, with a teasing smile. "I told you." Then he wets his lips, swallows, and his expression goes serious. "I know I say this all the time, but--it's still unreal to me, how much better my life is with you in it. And the last couple months, there's been so much stuff. I don't know how I'd be making it through my first year of teaching without you, but it's more than that. You can make fun of me all you want, but I've always been--I love the holidays, but I love them more with family. I never got the kind of Thanksgiving or Christmas I wanted when I was a kid before, but this year was perfect. And I just--I woke up this morning and I thought that I never want to have another New Year where I'm not kissing you at midnight. I want you to be there for all the big days in my life, and all the small ones. And I want to be there for yours too." He pulls a box out of the pocket of his pajama pants and opens it so she can see the ring. "Will you marry me?"

She laughs and puts the coffee on the night stand so she can tug him up to her, kissing him even as she feels herself tearing up a little. "I thought you were waiting!"

"Yeah, I did too. But, like I said, I got up this morning, and--"

"So romantic. You wrote a speech and everything."

He nips her bottom lip and pulls back to grin at her. "Yeah, I did. That's what I was doing in the living room, writing it down. I emailed it to you. I figured you'd want a hard copy. For your records."

Now she's definitely crying, and she drops her face against his neck, letting him hold her close. "Of course you did."

"It's kind of a tradition, right?"

"Yes." She kisses his shoulder. "To the proposal. And the tradition." She has to laugh. "I can't believe you spent an hour writing a proposal email when you could have been sleeping."

"I really couldn't have been." His grin is huge. "I couldn't wait, Clarke."

She kisses him again. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

 

**Five - Flag Day**

"You know we didn't _have_ to get married on a holiday," Clarke says. 

"Basically every day is a holiday, if you look hard enough," Bellamy points out. "Seriously, it would have been harder to _not_ get married on a holiday. We would have had to put in some work to avoid it. And you wouldn't want to accidentally get married on International Nose Picking Day. Which is April 23, by the way," he adds. "I checked to make sure I had a ridiculous example for you."

She snorts. "This isn't helping your case."

"What's my case, exactly?"

"That you didn't purposefully pick a holiday for us to get married on."

"We're not really getting married today. Most people count the party as their actual wedding anniversary, and that's not until Sunday. This is just the judge marrying us because we didn't want to bother with an officiant."

Clarke considers. "So, when we celebrate our anniversary, are you thinking it's going to be June 14 or June 17?"

There's a long pause, and then he admits, "June 17 is Father's Day this year. So I'm covered either way."

She collapses into giggles against his shoulder. He twists around so he can wrap his arm around her, and she raises her head to kiss his jaw. "June 14 is a nice anniversary. Not a cliche at all."

"And it's not like I ever do anything to celebrate Flag Day. Plus, you know, Father's Day shifts year-to-year, so--"

"So you planned this."

"You agreed. If you didn't want to get married on Flag Day, you should have given me an alternate date."

"You're right, this is my fault," she says. "You definitely don't have a weird holiday thing."

"June 17th is also Bunker Hill Day," he says. "So, yeah, either one is fine. I really covered my bases."

Clarke's laughing against his shoulder again when the guy at the desk calls, "Blake and Griffin?" and Bellamy squeezes her shoulders.

"Okay, we're up. Ready to get married?"

"Yeah," says Clarke. "Let's do it."


End file.
